conditioned responses and me
I've never experienced anything traumatic enough to stay with me in the way that, well, people who've been through traumatic events tend to carry that emotional residue with them. But now I think I understand it.
The other night, the Daroga clan (sans Kitty) went for a walk with human!Darcy and Sacha and The Bass Player. It was late, and quite dark, and we were on the well-used bike path behind the house. We heard someone coming in the distance, and could make out vague doggy-shaped things in front of person-shaped things, but Mr. Daroga was not expecting it at all when one of the doggy-shapes, which was already running towards us anyway (though on leash, as was Mr. Darcy) went straight for Mr. Darcy's face and clamped on to his lip. O HAY THAR PITBULL!
The men at the other ends of the leashes went in, while I yelled "don't get bit!" and tried to spray the dogs with my squirt bottle. And while it was definitely the most potentially dangerous fight Mr. D's ever been in (as in, dangerous for him), no one was hurt. Mr. Daroga apologized needlessly, since for once it wasn't D's fault. (Yes, I realize there are far too many "D" and "dar"'s.)
Crisis averted. Everything fine.
Well, as soon as we got out of range, I started crying and hyperventilating. I couldn't stop. And it wasn't that I was specifically reliving being bit, or genuinely concerned for Mr. Darcy's welfare at that moment. I think I was reliving the emotions of that day when I got bit and the other dog's owner yelled at me with a lot more venom than either of the dogs felt towards each other. It wasn't a specific memory--just the attendant feelings. And I realized that I've been reacting poorly to dog fights since then. Not that we get in a lot of them, but I'm emotionally less capable of dealing with it now.
So I kind of understand conditioned, traumatic responses like that now. Which, aside from being (obviously) unpleasant, is kind of interesting, too. Though it makes me feel weak and inadequate, I must say.
The other night, the Daroga clan (sans Kitty) went for a walk with human!Darcy and Sacha and The Bass Player. It was late, and quite dark, and we were on the well-used bike path behind the house. We heard someone coming in the distance, and could make out vague doggy-shaped things in front of person-shaped things, but Mr. Daroga was not expecting it at all when one of the doggy-shapes, which was already running towards us anyway (though on leash, as was Mr. Darcy) went straight for Mr. Darcy's face and clamped on to his lip. O HAY THAR PITBULL!
The men at the other ends of the leashes went in, while I yelled "don't get bit!" and tried to spray the dogs with my squirt bottle. And while it was definitely the most potentially dangerous fight Mr. D's ever been in (as in, dangerous for him), no one was hurt. Mr. Daroga apologized needlessly, since for once it wasn't D's fault. (Yes, I realize there are far too many "D" and "dar"'s.)
Crisis averted. Everything fine.
Well, as soon as we got out of range, I started crying and hyperventilating. I couldn't stop. And it wasn't that I was specifically reliving being bit, or genuinely concerned for Mr. Darcy's welfare at that moment. I think I was reliving the emotions of that day when I got bit and the other dog's owner yelled at me with a lot more venom than either of the dogs felt towards each other. It wasn't a specific memory--just the attendant feelings. And I realized that I've been reacting poorly to dog fights since then. Not that we get in a lot of them, but I'm emotionally less capable of dealing with it now.
So I kind of understand conditioned, traumatic responses like that now. Which, aside from being (obviously) unpleasant, is kind of interesting, too. Though it makes me feel weak and inadequate, I must say.